


Little Doses

by Scarpath



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Parental Roy Mustang, Sickfic, poisoned edward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 04:17:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20790512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarpath/pseuds/Scarpath
Summary: When Edward passes out in Mustang's office, he works to quickly get the boy to the hospital. He could only hope it wasn't too late...





	Little Doses

**Author's Note:**

> Felt the urge to write some parental Roy. It turned out... agnsty. Sorry =w=''

It started off small. Edward didn’t like to go back to Eastern Command, because he always felt a little worse there. He blamed it on not wanting to deal with the Colonel. Then, he was made to stay in East City for longer than he would’ve liked, being ordered to help with a two month long investigation. Despite how horrid he normally was with that sort of thing.

As he slowly started to feel worse, he was getting concerned. Puking once every two days at least. Intermittent fevers. A persistent cough. His apitite would tank, and he’d stop eating for a day or so, start to feel better, then worse again not long after he ate.

At one point, he just... couldn’t make it all the way back to the dorms from the Command Center. And the Colonel’s office was temptingly close. He felt awful, and the Colonel and his team were supposed to be out for a few hours longer. Ed would just sit down on the couch for a few, then be gone by the time anyone arrived.

And so, of course, that was when Ed finally fell asleep for the first time in a good thirty-six hours. He couldn’t even fight it, not even knowing the rest of the team would probably be back before he could leave. As he fell asleep, he wondered if it might be a good thing to fall asleep here. Al was with Winry for the time being, so Ed couldn’t turn to him...

When Ed woke back up, his head was spinning and his stomach was churning. He didn’t remember where he was, didn’t hardly register the sounds of voices. He barely had the time to turn to his side before he was vomiting yet again. There were a few gasps around him, and he tried to make sense of things.

He managed to catch sight of a familiar face. He remembered vaguely where he was now. He coughed some, lightly at first, then painful, deep coughs. It eventually lead to a few dry heaves.

It felt like the past month and a half, but worse. This was pretty much everything he’d been suffering from, all dialed up to eleven. Something was really wrong. All Ed could do was rasp out a shaky plea for help, as tears rolled down his cheeks.

~~~~~~

Roy Mustang hadn’t known what to think when his youngest subordinate seemed to be getting sicker the longer he was in East City. Unfortunately, however, Ed was in East City because of orders from above Mustang’s head. He couldn’t come up with a good reason to send Edward away, when by all appearances it was just a persistent stomach flu.

He was trying to figure out how to get Fullmetal to go to the doctor, despite his dislike for hospitals and the like. He decided to just schedual an appointment for Edward, and tell the boy that if he didn’t go willingly, he’d send him to the hospital. He was headed back to his office with his team, intending to set up the appointment when he noticed the very child he was concerned about on the couch. “Fullmetal?”

No response. Mustang drew closer, and took in the boy’s condition. He seemed to be in the worst state he’d been in yet. Pale as a sheet, taking raspy breaths. Fitful sleep. Roy was in the middle of telling his team to go back to their desks in the main room so the boy could get some rest when Edward seemed to wake up. He saw the boy turn to his side, and vomit all over the side of the couch.

There was blood in the vomit.

Mustang knelt down in front of the couch, feeling Edward’s forehead for a temperature. The contact seemed to set the boy on a coughing spurt that lead to gagging. When the small plea for help was uttered, Mustang finally jolted out of his shock.

“Hawkeye, prepare the car. We need to get him to the hospital.” Roy snapped out the order, even as he moved to lift Edward off the couch. He paid little heed to the vomit, as getting the boy to the hospital right away was of utmost importance.

The car ride felt like it was dragging on forever. Mustang didn’t dare even put Edward down, just cradling the boy with uncharacteristic care. Edward didn’t seem to be fully conscious, which was likely a blessing with how sick he was.

When they finally reached the hospital, Mustang rushed inside with Edward still in his arms. He was left pacing as he waited on news of Edward’s condition.

It was a long, long wait. The hospital staff didn’t want to answer any of Mustang’s questions until he not only pulled rank, but also showed that he was legally Edward’s guardian. (An unfortunate thing, the state hadn’t seemed to want to let Pinako Rockbell have guardianship of the boy for no real reason. Mustang had stepped up, in order to allow Edward to continue on with his carrier.)

What the nurses told him sent a chill through him. Edward had been poisoned. It wasn’t a stomach flu, or anything of the sort. Somebody had been toying with his charge, playing with poison for nearly a year now. They’d given what would have been a lethal dose if they hadn’t managed to get him to the hospital in time.

He didn’t know what lead Edward to sleep on his couch. He hardly cared. He just knew that whoever did this would  _ pay _ .

No one hurt those Roy Mustang cared about.

It took some digging to find who had access to Edward to poison him like that. When Roy finally found them though, a staff member at the cafeteria who was bitter over having failed the state alchemist exam when I child passed, it had been hard to hold back from snapping. They were arrested, and stood to face heavy punishment for their crimes. Potenitally even the death penalty.

And Edward fought hard for his life the whole time. Mustang’s heart broke a little every time he was told of how the effects of this would be lasting. It was possible Edward would make a full recovery, but that was looking less and less likely as the days went on.

Mustang considered, in his darker moments, that if Edward had to resign from the military, that he would too. It felt like he’d failed the boy. He’d tried so hard to keep a safe distance. To not act like a father, to risk making Edward a target. After all, higher-ups could use such a bond to try and get one of the two to resign. He hadn’t felt he could risk it, when Edward seemed to be doing fine without a parental figure.

If he’d been closer with Edward, however, maybe the boy would have trusted him more. Would have gone to him for help sooner. In trying to protect Edward, Mustang nearly got him killed.

When he was finally allowed to visit the boy, his heart broke. Even two weeks after being admitted, Edward was doing very poorly. He had an oxygen mask pumping air into his lungs. His automail had been removed, and he looked so small without it.

After that visit, he nearly turned in his watch. The paperwork provided blissful distraction though, so he stuck with it.

He visited Edward every day, and couldn’t help but be grateful Alphonse had agreed to stay where he was. He didn’t need to see this. Didn’t need to see his brother in a coma, the same brother who tried to be so strong for him.

~~~~~~

When Edward woke up, he felt off. He was having a hard time breathing, and it took him a long moment to realize he had an oxygen mask on. He blinked his eys open, and carefully took in his surroundings. His automail was missing, and he had an IV in his arm. There was an array of machines hooked up to him.

Then he saw the Colonel. Sitting to the side, working on paperwork. Like it was perfectly normal for him to be waiting in Edward’s hospital room when he woke up.

And shamefully, Edward felt so much relief to have Mustang there instead of Al. He hated worrying Al, and hated even more when Al had to see him like this. He was supposed to be the strong one. But... he was glad that he wasn’t alone.

He tried to catch his breath enough so he could say something, anything. He finally managed a breathy noise that didn’t quite resemble a word, but drew Mustang’s attention.

“You’re awake!” Edward gave a bit of a dry look at that, as if to give the sarcasm he couldn’t get across with words in the moment. Mustang didn’t seem fazed by it. “The doctors were starting to get worried you weren’t going to make it. You’ve been out for nearly a month.”

** _‘A MONTH?!?’_ ** Edward couldn’t manage words. He felt his expression must have gotten some of his meaning across though, as Mustang continued to explain. “One of the staff in the mess hall was bitter that you passed the exam, where he failed. He’d been poisoning you for nearly a year before deciding to give you what should have been a lethal dose. We nearly lost you more than once.”

Edward’s head was spinning. Nearly a year. That was when it had started, the feeling sick in East City. How had he not realized? He always went to the mess hall for food, since he could normally eat a mountain, the feed wasn’t half bad, and it was free. It was the most consistant thing he did in the city, other than reporting to Mustang.

He can’t afford to die. Al needed him, they still had to get their bodies back.

Edward jolted when a hand started to pet the top of his head, realizing he was starting to have a panic attack. He squeezed his eyes shut, and focused on his breathing again. “That’s it. Just breathe. It’s okay. You aren’t going to go down so easy.”

After he managed to calm down, Edward found himself tired out. He tried to fight the sleep, but eventually had to just give in.

~~~~~~

Mustang continued to stroke Edward’s head after he fell asleep. He’d long since given up on keeping from acting like a father to the boy. By now he was just so relieved that Edward had finally woken from the coma.

It took a good while before he could finally pull himself away long enough to let the doctors know Edward had been awake, and call Alphonse.

Edward made it. It had been real touch and go, and he likely would never make a full recovery. But he would survive, and that was everything Mustang had let himself hope for after those first long weeks.

~~~~~~

When Edward next woke, Mustang was still in the room. He still had an oxygen mask on. He still could barely breathe. But this time, his little brother was in the room. Tears tried to well in his eyes, but he forced them back. He wouldn’t cry in front of his little brother.

This time, he at least managed to talk, if in a raspy and uncomfortable croak. “Al.”

“Brother! You’re awake.” Al sounded the closest to tears he had yet since he’d been stuck in the armor, and it hurt Ed’s heart to hear. “They were really worried you weren’t going to make it, and Mister Mustang said you’d be fine, but they asked me to stay with Winry and I was really scared.”

The tears tried once again to show, and this time Ed couldn’t fully hold them back. “I’m sorry.”

Mustang drew closer, putting a hand on Al’s shoulder. The younger brother’s armor rattled, as if trying to make up for the fact that he couldn’t physically cry. Ed tried to speak, but ended up giving a few light coughs, and it seemed to break Al in a way.

Al looked down at the ground. “I-I’m sorry, I ca-an’t see you like th-is. I’m going back to Winry.”

Ed could only manage to say a raspy “I love you” before Al was gone again.

He looked at Mustang with a painfully honest look. Tears were staining his cheeks, but he still had to ask. The one thing he knew that would get Al quite this upset...

“I’m not going to make a full recovery, am I?”

~~~~~~

There were no words that could express the pain and sorrow Mustang felt when Edward asked him that. He sat on the edge of the hospital bed, and gently brushed Ed’s bangs back. “The doctors aren’t fully sure yet what you’ll have the most issues with going forward. Your stomach took a lot of damage, and your lungs will have to be retaught how to function properly.”

Edward looked so defeated, but Roy needed to tell him everything. “Until they can get you on good, solid food without your stomach rejecting it, they don’t want you using automail. It’s too heavy, and they’re worried it’ll slow your recovery.”

“And they aren’t sure if I’ll manage solid food again?” Mustang nodded at the quiet question.

It felt like Mustang had gone right back through the war, only this one broke him in ways he didn’t even know possible.

And Edward’s next words just hurt more. “How can I help Al like this?”

He had no answer for that. What could he say? Nothing was good enough. “I’m sorry. I failed to protect you like I should have.”

~~~~~~

Ed wouldn’t be able to help Al get his body back. Not if the damage was as bad as Mustang said. “Just... help Al. I can’t anymore.”

Mustang nodded, and Ed couldn’t help but feel like the request had brought a fire to the older man’s eyes. He shifted to be more comfortable, and closed his eyes.

He would trust Mustang.

“Thanks, Dad.” The title had been very purposeful, but Ed played it off by pretending to fall asleep. He kept his eyes cracked just far enough open to watch the older man’s reaction. 

He fell asleep to the sensation of Mustang stroking his hair, and the words "Sleep well, son."

**Author's Note:**

> That's probably the end of the fic. I might write more, but I doubt I'll get to another good end point, so I'll leave it here. If I manage to write more that ends in a decent place I'll update. But otherwise, that's a wrap.


End file.
